Equivalent Trade
by Ytak
Summary: Alchemy has a cost. The true price of alchemy was discovered. no spoilers, post-series AU type
1. Part 1: Bitter

**Equivalent Trade**

**Part 1: Bitter**

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This idea has been tickling me in the back of my head for sometime and I have finally been able to scratch the itch.

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It was the middle of the cold day in the city. The sky was clear and the blueness of the air seemed to only emphasis the bone chilling cold. A small, hunched figure walked up to a small, old bar. He opened the door and closed it quickly to keep the cold outside. Tiredly, he shrugged off his coat and hung it on an old coat rack.

The tiny grey haired man lowered himself to a raised stool in a nearly empty bar. He waved down to the bartender and called out in a tired voice, "The usual for me, Hank!"

Hank came over with a shot of whiskey and mug of cheap beer. The old man threw the whiskey down and placed the shot glass hard on the table. He sat in his seat for a minute, staring off in to nothingness as his eyes glazed over from the sudden input of alcohol.

He removed his hand from the shot glass and gripped the mug of beer with both hands. Bringing it to his lips, he took a sip. After grimacing, he took a large swill and swallowed to fast to taste the bitter beverage.

Shifting uncomfortably, he removed his left hand from the beer mug as he placed it back on to the table. With his left hand, he rubbed a section of his upper arm uncomfortably.

From behind the bar countertop, Hank called out, "Your arm bothering you again?"

"Yeah," the old man bitterly replied, "My leg, too." He looked out of the grimy window of the bar. A long stretch of silence filled the nearly empty bar before the old man spoke again. "It's going to be another cold, long winter."  
"Is that so, sir?" the bartender replied non-commitmently as he dried a mug with a towel.

Another long stretch of silence reached across the room. The old man spoke again, "There was a time I could make a living. I had a profession. Maybe I didn't like it sometimes. Hell, now that I think of it, I see that I didn't like it a lot of the time but I was good at it." He laughed bitterly and took another swill from his mug.

Speaking more to himself, he said sadly, "I lost my livelihood because I discovered something. A lot of people hated me after that." He stared down into the amber beverage.

"People know I am a right now but that doesn't help me. I'm not good at anything else. Too stubborn to fit into a mold. Too old to learn something new." He laughed harshly, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks! Fits too well considering I was a dog of the military for years and years."

He finished off the beer and placed money on the countertop. "Thanks for the ear, Hank."

"No problem, sir," Hank said as the old man climbed off the barstool and walked to the door. He pulled on the worn coat and shrugged it on, pulling it tight around him to protect his body from the bitter cold wind that could now be heard howling outside.

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Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Leave a review! 

This is the first part. There's a second part on the way. It should be up by Tues. next week but no promises. School work comes first.


	2. Part 2: Truth

**Part 2: Truth**

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The old man walked out the door and trudged across town past a building that had a faded symbol for the National Alchemists underneath a newer symbol. To the people of the younger generations that symbol represented the Bureau of Alchemic Control. He spared the building a look that was filled with bitterness, hate and a touch of fondness. Without a pause, he continued around the building to a small door and let himself in. 

Down the halls, he passed rooms filled with young men and women working on filling out reports and relaying messages. They all would pause for a moment as he passed before returning to their work.

Finally, he came to an office that had his name written on it and unlocked the door and locked it behind himself. As the people in the office heard the door lock behind the old man, they began to talk in earnest.

"Yeah, that's him."

"I've heard lots of things about him. Is any of it true?"

A new person to the office asked, "Who is that?"

Some of the people looked at the newcomer in surprise. One of them shook her head in disbelief. Rummaging through some papers, she pulled out a yellowed, much handled, journal. Opening to a dog-eared page, she handed it to the young man, she said, "He's the one that wrote this."

Inside the young man read:

_As with all alchemy, equivalent trade is required. Not just of materials but also energy. Obviously, alchemists tend to have bigger appetites as a result of using their own energy in fueling alchemy. But, the energy used in the reaction is really only like the first spark to start a fire. Recent experiments I've been conducting indicate this. They also seem to point to the energy used in the reaction being pulled from the surrounding environment. In other words, the planet around us. While minor uses of alchemy pull the energy that is being expended from the planet as it spins, which would be lost into space if the alchemy did not use it, the greater alchemic works pull the energy from the planet itself. Occasionally, this does not appear to be a problem but I believe constant and prolonged alchemic reactions will have dire consequences._

_I believe that the continued use of alchemy will result in the cooling down and, possibly, deceleration of the planet. The planet could revert to an ice age. A long and permanent ice age._

"_He's_ the one that developed this theory?" the young man asked his college in disbelief.

Her voice took on a condescending tone, "Theory? Would this department exist if it was only a _theory_?" She shook her head, "No, if only it were. Do you remember learning about the long winter, right?"

"Yeah…how does it relate to this theory?" he asked with child-like naivety.

She sat on the edge of a desk and folded her arms, "The long winter, I forget how many years long it was, two at least, it was caused by a massive military alchemic experiment. It's not taught in school or common knowledge, though people do know about it."

Giving him a long look, she asked, "Didn't you read the briefing they gave you when you signed on?"

He fidgeted and looked embarrassed, "Uh…I kinda skimmed it. I was kinda excited to be accepted here." He looked at her face, "So that was when they basically made alchemy illegal?"

"Yeah," she nodded off in the direction of the old man's office, "I heard he took it hard, used to be a national alchemist himself. Now, well…he's just a bitter man who doesn't know what else to do with his life."

"A national alchemist?" he said, sounding impressed. "I heard that is was hard to become one."

"Well, he was the youngest person ever to become one. I believe he was known as the Fullmetal Alchemist."

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Woops. Finished later than I intended. I tend to want to write when I need to study or write for class. Guess what? I have a test tomorrow. :)

Constructive criticism is appreciated.


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